Chapter Seventeen
Zahra
I wasn’t born like the other kids were.
I thought I was until I realized the things happening to me didn’t happen to normal kids.
From age five to twelve, I lived with two adults—no, they were not my parents, and it wasn’t foster care; it was worse than that.
They were my Handlers. From the little I remember, and from what I know now, the gruesome things they made me and the other children do were not things children should have been doing.
But it made them money; older men and younger men alike would pay thousands of dollars to have their way with us …
no penetration, just gratification, terrible, terrible things we had to do with our hands and mouths …
If I closed my eyes, if I let the capsule I had taken win, I could go back to that house, I could remember the way it smelled, like detergent, one Miss Handler had used to scrub the floors every night after all our visitors left.
I could see myself, an innocent little girl, standing in front of Mr. Handler, scared out of her mind from the alcohol on his breath, worried that she had done something to offend one of her favorite people in the world, scared that he would hurt her like the other men did.
If I really stopped to remember, I would hear my own voice, shaking and scared as I asked him, “Did I do something wrong?” Then I would see his eyes, blue like the sky, watching me with what my little self hadn’t registered as deranged obsession.
I would listen to him tell me how much he wanted me and how much he felt sick for wanting me.
I would feel his lips on mine and his tongue inside my mouth.
I would watch him take me to his bed, whispering filthy things I’d often hear the other men say, repeating his endearing nicknames he reserved just for me, “Amore mio,” “my Zahra,” and I would watch myself cry in relief when Miss Handler interrupted him with a shout, pulling me from his grip and his touch.
I would hear his voice whisper, “I don’t know what I was thinking, Amore mio, please forgive me, my Zahra.”
Manuel Conti.
The reason I wished I had died a long time ago, and also the reason I was alive today.
Girls like me were called Plants, born and groomed to attract men as treacherous and disgusting as Manuel, the man who raised me since I was five.
The man who wanted me when I was twelve.
The man who saved me from sex slavery when I was sixteen, the man who took me to Sicily, made me his equal, gave me power and respect.
I had trusted him then. I once thought I loved him … He ended my trauma, but it was almost too late before I realized he made it worse.
Girls like me … we didn’t have the petty wish of that magical first kiss, or the awkward first time.
Girls like me were born into this world for the sole purpose of pleasuring men, and sometimes women.
Girls like me were created to gratify the fetishes of people old enough to parent us.
I didn’t have my light brown skin because two people of different races fell in love and decided to have children; I had my skin because there was someone out there who wanted to fuck someone like me.
It was why I was born.
My past was why I didn’t like Dion’s lips on me. Not entirely because he was a sleazy bastard, but because it brought back trauma I had buried a long time ago.
My night wasn’t going how I pictured it would.
I was out of it, laughing and chuckling my head off.
That goddamn pill Dion gave me was messing with my head.
It was only five minutes ago that he had whispered in my ear, saying we should go somewhere private.
I nodded like an idiot and let him pull me with him.
We got into an elevator, and somewhere at the back of my mind, I heard a voice.
“Zahra, the fuck are you doing? Leave him now. Make an excuse and go to the washroom, I’m on my way.”
I was dazed with everything around me, and when the elevator closed, Dion held my face in his hands and crashed his lips to mine in a kiss, pulling my waist to meet the bulge in his pants; I giggled when he dropped his head to lick and kiss my neck.
“Devil, Zahra’s in trouble.”
“Just helped Upper out of the club; I’m on to her now.”
The elevator dinged open, and Dion led me out. We stumbled down the hallway, to a door he led me into. He closed it behind me, pushing me to the flat surface, his body pressing against mine, erection hard against my stomach while he kissed me.
“Zahra, I’ve lost visuals of you. Are you okay?”
Dion sucked on my neck. Eager.
“Mm,” I moaned. “Slow down, tiger.”
“I wanna fuck you, princess.”
“You will; patience is a virtue,” I whispered breathlessly.
I smiled at him when he looked at me.
“Get on the bed, Dion. Get naked.”
Dion scrambled off me, turning to take off his clothes hurriedly.
“Remind me to drug you more often because you sound like a fucking horny teenager. He’s almost twice your age, Zahra.” Dog’s voice reached my ear, the recognition shocking me for a second.
“Oh, hi, Dog,” I whispered with a smile, watching as Dion’s naked body rushed to the bed, his cock hard and ready.
“Oh, now she fucking answers—”
“Bye, Dog.”
“Wai—”
I discreetly took the comm from my ear, dropped it to the ground, and stepped on it till it broke underneath my heel.
“Come over here, princess.”
I walked to the foot of the bed with a smile, my tongue grazing my bottom lip.
He had his hand around his shaft, stroking it.
I tilted my head, watching him.
“Come on, baby.”
My hand went to undo the zipper of my dress, and then I slipped it down my body, leaving the red lace panties and bra on display.
Dion groaned. “So fucking sexy. How did I get so lucky?”
I grinned, faking shyness as I bit my bottom lip to stop the grin from spreading. “Do you have a knife?” I asked him, and he frowned, still stroking his length.
“A knife? What for?”
“I was thinking … I could … cut off my bra, tie you up with it, then cut off my panties and gag you with them while I ride your cock. Red would look so good on your wrists.”
“Top drawer to the left,” Dion said like a happy dog waiting to be fed by his master.
I moved to the drawer he gestured to and smiled to myself, spotting the knife there. It was small and handy.
Just perfect.
I made my way back to the foot of the bed before I climbed on slowly, crawling up his naked body and pressing myself down to his hard cock.
“Ah,” he grunted, his jaw clenching. He rocked his hips, trying to dry hump me through my thong.
“Shhh, patience.”
“Ride me—fuck—I’m so hard right now.”
“Poor thing, you wanna see something interesting before we start?”
He nodded hurriedly.
I raised my knife-free hand to the wig and pulled it off with the small wig cap I wore underneath it, whipping my short hair left and right, my fingers brushing the curls free.
I felt Dion’s cock soften almost immediately, looking at me with wide eyes, the recognition shining like a bright light in those dimmed, intoxicated pupils.
“Oh fuck…” he muttered.
“You recognize me?”
Fear flashed through those eyes, and I smiled.
“Of course you do, Dion,” I said, dragging the knife down to his chin from his cheek. “What?” I shot him a taunting smile. “You don’t wanna fuck me anymore?”
His chest heaved. He was scared. Lying beneath me. Trapped with the knife to his throat. It had been a while since I felt the effect of my power.
“Look, Zahra, I paid off Manuel; I have nothing owed to you.”
“You don’t?”
“Just let me go; if you kill me, Edoardo will—”
“Do nothing; you know he’ll do nothing, Dion. Even if he wanted to, Manuel or I would be the last people he thinks of.”
“What do you want from me?”
“Your life.” I smiled. “Remember that time in Sicily, the last time we saw each other? I told you I would dig a knife down your throat.” I pressed the knife to his throat. “What was it you called me? Manuel’s whore?”
“Manuel cut off my fucking finger for that—isn’t that payment enough?”
“How about the little girl you killed? Maya. You fucked her—raped her, and killed her. This was before the incident with Manuel. Do you remember? Your words were, ‘Throw her body in a fucking river somewhere; she didn’t even make me come.’ She was a fucking child.”
“That was—”
“The moment I knew you would die by my hands, Dion.”
His body shuddered beneath me.
“But before that happens, I have a question. What business do you have with Marino, and why would they want intel on the Pablos?”
The man frowned, chest heaving. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Does it have to do with the flash drives?”
“What fucking flash drives?” He looked even more confused, clueless.
“So you know nothing, then.”
“Wha—”
“A waste.” I raised the knife, but he, obviously, saw it coming so his blow to my forearm wasn’t completely unexpected; the knife falling right out of my grip, though, was something I didn’t see coming.
He gained the upper hand, pushing my body off him with as much strength as his drug-filled mind could muster. I landed with a sharp thud, my middle connecting with the nightstand as I fell. I held my stomach with a groan, grinding my teeth as I watched him stagger towards the locked door.
Swiftly, I got to my feet, ignored the pain in my ribs as I slid my hands behind me, undoing the clasp of my bra before rushing to him.
I jumped on his back, wrapping the bra around his neck before he could reach the door, my legs circled and held tight around his waist as I pulled the bra tight, choking him with it.
I breathed heavily, teeth gnashing as the sound of him choking and staggering backward filled the room.
His hands swung, trying to hit my face, anything to break free of my assault.
He caught my hair in his fists as he pulled, running backward until his body slammed me against a wall, the force of it knocking the breath out of me, and the glass vase that had been on a table onto the floor.
It shattered as the bastard’s elbow connected with my stomach, and the bra fell out of my grip.
He turned sharply, gripped me by my neck, and slammed my head against the wall.
“You fucking bitch!” he spat, saliva hanging from his lips as he gripped my hair again, pulling me from the wall, and dragging me towards the bed.
I stumbled over my own feet, dropping slightly to my knees, my fingers wrapping around steel as he forcefully pulled me up, throwing me carelessly on the bed, as if I weighed nothing.
He breathed, stalking closer. “What did you think, that you could kill me?” A smirk pulled at the corners of his lips.
“You? A fucking rogue Plant?” His knees hit the bed.
I pushed my body upward as if trying to escape him.
“That’s one thing with you fucking Plants; give them a bit of attention, and they think they are worth something.
” He crawled up above me, his eyes locked on my breasts before jumping to my eyes again.
“You think you are Manuel’s equal … no, you’ve only been one thing to him.
” He brought his face closer, until I could smell his rancid breath. “His. Fucking. Who—”
I plunged the knife right into the base of his throat with a yell.
His eyes widened in shock as his blood pumped out, spraying and pouring on my chin and chest. I gritted and groaned, twisting the knife as I pushed him off me, straddling his waist and looking him dead in the eye: “Told you what would happen the next time you called me that, you fucking motherfucker.” His eyes were wide in death as he choked on the gurgle of his blood, his bloodied tongue sticking out.
I twisted the knife again, bringing my face near his. “Rot in hell knowing a fucking Plant ended your miserable life, you fucking piece of shit,” I spat, watching his life slip out of him, his legs weakly kicking out behind me, until his struggle slowly stopped, and his chest stopped moving.
I stayed like that for about a minute, breathing heavily before I pulled out the knife, heaving a sharp breath as I let go of the weapon, throwing my head back, and closing my eyes tightly. “Shit,” I hissed, looking down at the mess I made. “Fucking hell, Zahra.”
Quickly, I got off him, paced for a few seconds as my brain worked a mile a minute before I rushed to the bathroom and washed away as much blood as I could. I ran back into the room, picked up my bra and dress, and slipped them back on.
The door burst open brutally, and I gasped, turning to see a fast-breathing Devil. “Zah—” He stopped short as his gaze shifted to Dion’s body on the bed.
His wide eyes shifted to me and then to Dion. He rushed into the room, and before he shut the door, I spotted unconscious bodies on the ground.
“What the fuck happened?” he whispered in a yell, raking both hands through his hair. “How the—why the—”
My body shook, and I hugged myself. “He tried to hurt me. I—I was trying to defend myself, and I—I don’t know what happened—I was—I was high—I wasn’t thinking—I didn’t know—”
“Hey, hey.” Devil rushed to me, wrapping his hands around my body, and placing a kiss to my hair.
“I’m sorry, it’s okay; I’m glad you’re okay.
Fast thinking is always important,” he assured, breaking away from me.
“Are you hurt anywhere?” he asked, his eyes roaming all over me as I frantically shook my head.
“No, no, I’m not.”
“Good, good,” he said, before rushing to Dion’s body and picking up the knife from beside him. “We gotta get outta here,” he said as he rushed towards me, grabbing my wrist. “Come on.”
Before we left, I picked up my wig and my ruined comm device from the ground and glanced at Dion’s lifeless body.
My lips curved to the side.